


Let Me Lie At Your Feet

by tangofox



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs, Boot Worship, Chastity, M/M, Master/Slave, Slave roleplay, Worship, domjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 17:19:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangofox/pseuds/tangofox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a few months of dating, Grantaire decides to introduce Enjolras into the kinkier side of life, and let him know a fantasy he has always wanted to try out on his boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Lie At Your Feet

“Are you sure this is what you want Grantaire?” Enjolras asks, frowning as he skims over the internet page Grantaire has sent him.

They had been dating for six months now, with quite a funny start to their relationship. Both had been desperately pining for the other, neither aware of the other parties affections. It took a quite drunk Joly and a loose tongue for everything to come to air. And in the past few weeks, Grantaire had been adamant that they try out new things. Enjolras had been a virgin before Grantaire, and it had been overwhelming enough to be opened up to normal sex, without adding fetishes. But he loved his boyfriend, and he supposed he should at least try to be open minded.

Enjolras was sat up on their big double bed, laptop in front of him, his blond brows knitted together in a frown. They had only moved in together two weeks ago, and Enjolras couldn't help notice that Grantaire seemed to be getting a habit of sitting below him. He was sat cross legged on the floor now, he could still see the laptop, but Enjolras was acutely aware of the difference, the subtle power shift that came with Grantaire being beneath him. And he was beginning to realise it wasn't something he should feel guilt, or annoyance about. It was something Grantaire wanted, and he should respect that.

“You can use the safe words too, you can stop any time you're uncomfortable,” Grantaire offers, shrugging a little. In his hand was a spiked dog collar, in thick black leather, a chained leash attached to it. Grantaire had bought it from a pet store yesterday on some sort of whim, and Enjolras had to admit, he was intrigued by it. 

“It seems strange that you should want to do this, don't you find it dehumanizing?” Enjolras asks, turning away from the words on the screen to look at him. He tries to word his sentence as thoughtful as possible, even if he doesn't quite manage it. He wants to understand him, not belittle him for his kink.

“On the contrary, I find it comfortable,” He tells him, his eyes flicking downwards as soon as Enjolras looks at him, and there’s a small smile quirking on his lips, as if the warmth of Enjolras's gaze is enough alone to simply fill him with joy. “I understand you are just a human, just like me. We are no better, or no worse than each other. I suppose, it is like role-playing. Maybe imagine we are Romans or Greeks. And I am nothing more than a paid slave.”

“I am not sure I can reduce you to such a thing Grantaire,” He replies, his frown only deepening. “Or allow you to put me on a pedestal.”

“But it's not you,” He tries to explain. “Enjolras the God, is different from Enjolras my boyfriend, do you get it?” Grantaire is thankful to see Enjolras nod at him, deep in thought. “And Grantaire the slave is just a fantasy, a part of me, but not me as a whole. I've learnt to like some of myself, but I cannot love all of myself yet, perhaps never. And I want an outlet, and I want it to be with you.”

“Get on your knees.”

The words come as a surprise to Grantaire, Enjolras's acceptance is not something he expected to come so abruptly, but he quickly changes position, unfolding his legs and kneeling up, making him taller in stature now, staying there as Enjolras rises to his feet, closing the laptop carefully. He comes nervously to stand in front of Grantaire. He could see the appeal, though this was mainly for Grantaire's enjoyment. But he would indulge him and his kinks. He loved him enough to try. 

He presses two fingers under his chin, tilting Grantaire's head up, and his heart swells with affection when their gazes meet. “What would you like to be called?” He asks, though he is putting on a show, his chest puffed out, his voice an octave or two lower, booming almost, like when he delivered his speeches. He knew how much Grantaire liked to listen when he spoke like that.

“Derogatory terms turn me on,” He admits, blinking his eyes, one brown and one a strange dark blue, reminiscent of the ocean depths. “Slave, pig, dog. But you can call me Grantaire if you're more comfortable with that?”

Enjolras is silent for a second. “So you have no objections if I refer to you as a filthy desperate cock sucking pig?”

Grantaire's lips turn up in a smirk, his tongue darting out lustfully. After all it was all true, why wouldn't he get turned on by it. Being called names was fun when he could own it. When he was in control, when Enjolras, the love of his life was the one calling him these things. It was worlds apart from being insulted in the street. “No objections at all,” He gushes, the words tumbling out of his mouth quickly, his excitement hard to contain. “What would you like me to call you? Sir? Master?”

Enjolras shakes his head, fingers absent-mindedly stroking his chin, he liked how his scruff felt, against his fingers. He wondered how it might feel having Grantaire rub that scruff against his body. He supposed he was in charge now, he could demand that if he wanted to. He picks the dog collar out of his hands, and carefully, puts it snugly around his neck, admiring the sight. “Enjolras will be fine. While I like these terms, I am too fond of hearing my name leave your lips in passionate moments, and I would regret the loss of that. Do you remember your safe words?”

“Green for okay, yellow for unsure, and red for stop,” He says straight away, craning his neck, impatient, yet enjoying the lack of control already. He wouldn't move without Enjolras saying he could. He was already overwhelmed, hearing Enjolras talk about Grantaire speaking his name. Sometimes it's easy to forget that he wasn't the only one pining for love. Enjolras felt just the same as he had done. How foolish and blind they both were.

“And the...the hand gesture?” Enjolras adds, trying to make sure all safety measures are covered. They had experimented with things before, and Enjolras was always firm on safe play, a lot more than Grantaire was. He liked to push his own limits, but Enjolras did not approve at all. Grantaire raises his hand to show him a thumbs up, and then a thumbs down, before dropping his hand back onto his knee. “Good. Now go fetch me those new boots I bought last week. The black ones

Grantaire moves to rise, only to feel Enjolras's hand pressing on his shoulder, keeping him down. His gaze drops, and he moves to his hands and knees, towards the shoe cupboard. He finds the box, but frowns, realising he wouldn’t be able to crawl and carry the shoe box, but wouldn't be able to carry a box between his teeth neither. Feeling Enjolras's eyes on him, he decides to pick the box up, placing it on his flat back, and carefully, crawl back to his boyfriends feet, taking great care not to drop the box.

Enjolras finds himself surprisingly aroused at the sight, perhaps it's because Grantaire is so good at it, and yet so often unwilling to have an audience to his talent. Despite the fact that in this role-play, he was the God so to speak, he felt incredibly privileged and lucky to see Grantaire like this. “Thank you very much.” He tells him, before sitting back down on the side of the bed, the mattress sagging just slightly under his weight. “Do I need to tell you what to do next?”

“No Enjolras,” He says quickly, shaking his head. When reaching behind himself to grab the box he angles his back, causing the shoes to slide, and almost drops them on the floor, just managing to catch them, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Be more careful,” Enjolras suddenly says, waiting to see how Grantaire responds with being scolded for something so slight.

“I’m sorry Enjolras,” He says hurriedly, bowing his head, and holding the box in a steel grip. He was almost embarrassed by the fact he was already aroused. He takes the shoes out of the box, unwrapping them slowly, then setting them down in front of Enjolras's feet. He picks up his foot delicately, holding Enjolras's leg slightly elevated with one hand, picking up the boot with the other. He slides the shoe on his foot, before setting it down, and attending to the other. Enjolras could see quite clearly he's having to think about everything, to make sure it's as perfect as possible. He finds himself finding the simple process of having his shoes put on is becoming something beautiful. The boots are just slip on and require no adjustments, he catches Grantaire's large fingers caressing the buckles, running over the shiny silver metal of the new shoes. 

“I didn't know you bought these,” Grantaire murmurs, fingers still running over the soft leather.

“I didn't know I had to inform my slave of any new purchase,” Enjolras quips in response, but he's smiling at him. He is finding that his quick tongue works well into this type of role-playing, and while he is aware of everything, he is surprisingly able to relax.

“No of course not Enjolras,” He says shaking his head, still admiring the boots on his boyfriends feet.

Enjolras notices, tilting the toe of his boot towards his caressing fingers. “Perhaps you ought to put that tongue to better use slave,” He suggests firmly, though he does not lift his foot higher. As he had thought would happen, Grantaire immediately stoops and kisses the toe of his boot gently. Enjolras however, pulls back.   
“Don't be so pathetic, you can do better than that,” he says, shaking his foot a little. Immediately Grantaire's tongue is licking all over the leather, clumsy wet kisses that he can feel on the soft boot. He knows that he needs to be careful with the humiliation that Grantaire sought, watching with interest, the dark haired man letting out a grunt as he flicks his toe over the silver buckle he had been playing with previously. Enjolras could not insult his talents, could not lie and tell Grantaire he was a useless painter, or a terrible fencer. He could only insult him in a sexual way, in this scene, encourage him to do better with lazy terms. He wanted Grantaire to feel he would get bored and end the scene if he did not perform better.

“What colour?”

“God...Green,” Grantaire murmurs, tongue dragging over the seam near his ankle, tip of his tongue just grazing the fabric interior that was visible, barely missing his skin. Enjolras found himself longing to have that tongue run all over his body, but perhaps for another day, he had already decided what he wanted from his boyfriend.

He lifts his foot then, quick enough to surprise Grantaire, pressing the sole of his boot right against his face, feeling his large nose squash slightly, watching him pant, lips parting against the thick sole. “Lick it you dirty pig,” Enjolras mutters, frowning a little as if displeased, but he could no longer hide the bulging in his underwear, caused from how well Grantaire was at being, utterly filthy. Straight away on command Grantaire drags his tongue against the surface, and for just a second both of them soak in the fact that Grantaire is dirty and desperate enough to run his tongue against the soles of the mans boot, to be the lowest of the low, just for sexual pleasure. It made both of them equally dizzy.

Enjolras drops his foot, flat on the floor, wet sole sliding against the wooden slats slightly. While it was beautifully arousing, he wanted Grantaire closer, he wanted more. How foolish of him to think this was just for Grantaire, when now he was feeling utterly selfish, his boyfriend now a slave for him to command.

“How aroused are you? I want to see,” He demands of him, trying not to lean forwards, not to show any sign of desperation. His words are still firm but lazy, and he has to control his ragged breathing, and not just pin down his love and take him. Not today.

Grantaire shuffles back on the floor, fingers tugging at the button on his jeans, flicking it open then dragging down his zip quickly, shoving his hand into his boxers and pulling out his erection, clothing pushed down just enough to free his cock and balls. Enjolras was infinitely fascinated with his cock, much darker, much larger than his own. Everything about Grantaire was apparently so ugly in everyone else eyes, from his three splotchy wine-stain birthmarks, to his hairy body and his mixed-race skin. But all Enjolras saw was an overwhelming beauty. He wanted to drown in those mismatched eyes, wanted to kiss the birthmark on his face until he blushed the same colour, wanted to caress the same marks that covered his right pec, and behind his right knee. He wanted to grab at those wiry black curls, and whisper sweet nothings into his large ears, nuzzle against his broad nose. He wanted to kiss his belly and in some ways, worship his form too. But if Grantaire found greater pleasure in being the worshipper, he would not make complaint. 

“You’re disgusting,” Enjolras murmurs despite thinking quite the opposite, yet how Grantaire groans in delight at those words, fingers twitching as if they are desperate to wrap around the base of his shaft and start to pump. “Why are you so aroused?”

“Because I want to serve you that badly,” Grantaire mumbles, balling his hand into a fist, then flexing his fingers again. He was glad they were strong in their relationship, that he was no longer afraid to be honest and open with Enjolras. 

“Do you want me to fuck you, or do you want something else?” Enjolras asks, moving now to palm himself with one of his hands, and despite his stoic expression, the touch makes him blush pink. 

“Want to suck your cock,” Grantaire grunts, and the words sound completely guttural, and Grantaire already looks desperate and wanton, with his shining pink lips, his twitching cock pulled out and on display for Enjolras. 

“If you were a good slave your lips would already be wrapped around me,” He comments casually. “I have been aroused for quite a while, yet you are so useless you haven't even sought to satisfy me.”

Grantaire lets out a low whine as he scrabbles forwards in-between his legs, and Enjolras doesn’t miss the way his own hand slides craftily up and down his cock in the movement, pressing his face against his crotch, Enjolras quickly moving his hand away in time. At first he attempts, badly, to use his teeth to undo Enjolras's trousers. He was dressed in tight fitting black chinos with a long sleeved white t-shirt which dipped at the neck, though it showed off nothing, there were no muscles nor hairs on Enjolras's chest to be exhibited. When Grantaire quickly realises he is unable to remove the three buttons with just his teeth he draws back, letting his a frustrated sigh, before moving to pop them undone with his quick fingers, one by one. Enjolras graciously lifts his hips to let Grantaire slide them down along with his red low-slung briefs, but drops right back on the bed before they reach his knees. 

“Take off all your clothes.” Enjolras tells him, putting one hand on his knee, and leaning forward just enough so he can run his hands through his black curls, tugging on the locks a little. “What colour?”

“Green,” He grunts quickly, tugging off his brown jumper, topless underneath, his chest covered in black hair, almost covering the wine-stain birthmark next to his nipple, matching the one on his face that was splotched over his eye. His jeans come off clumsily, and if Enjolras were not so aroused and in character he would have laughed warmly at the sight of Grantaire squirming on the floor tearing his jeans off. His dark blue boxers come off next, leaving him completely naked, and quickly back to kneeling in front of Enjolras.

The mention that Grantaire was okay with everything made him feel good. Enjolras was always going to worry about safety, and Grantaire's happiness and well-being would always come before his aching erection. But now the first one was taken care of, he could lean back a little, push his hips forwards, presenting his cock to Grantaire to him without words, expecting him to take the bait. 

Obediently of course, Grantaire moves forwards once more, and just as he had treated the sole of his boot, his tongue darts out, and he licks a stripe from the base of Enjolras's erection to the tip, causing the man to moan out, sounding high-pitched and feminine. And that only added to Grantaire's arousal. Those noises, they were why he loved Enjolras. With his soft body and long hair, his supermodel legs and dainty hands, he could pass for a woman, was so femme others often thought he was. But he was in charge of himself, was a powerful man and nobody owned him. But he owned Grantaire, a hunk of a man, masculine in every sense, yet so happy to sit at his femme boyfriends feet, whether he was dressed in a suit or in a dress, and he had seen both, and both had been spectacular.

Impatient and horny, Enjolras's hands find his hair again, tugging him away, watching a string of saliva trail from his shaft to Grantaire's bottom lip. “I thought you wanted to worship me?” He asks, tilting his head so Grantaire is forced to meet his gaze, and he swears he sees a blush on his dark cheeks when he asks the question.

“I- I do..” He stutters.

“Then do a better job of it,” Enjolras spits, letting go of his hair, watching Grantaire's head fall. “You don't deserve the right to breathe until I have cum, do you?”

“No Enjolras, I-I'm sorry Enjolras,” He groans, lust flickering in his eyes at the humiliation Enjolras is dishing out. Quickly he moves back into position and there is no teasing with his tongue this time, just parting his thick lips and pushing Enjolras's cock into his mouth, quick in his movement, quick enough to choke and gag when his length becomes too much, but to swallow and take it anyway, until his broad nose is nestled against the fair curls at the base of him. 

Enjolras moans softly, burying his fingers in Grantaire's hair, looking down to find Grantaire looking up at him with smiling wet eyes, threatening to overspill. “Your such a good slave,” He coos in reward to him, rolling his hips up once and watching Grantaire gag, surprised at how good it looked. Grantaire manages to nod, and the movement only makes Enjolras groan. But he doesn’t move his hips again just yet, watching him, his cheeks puffed out, face red with exertion, his own erection heavy and more than obvious between his legs. It isn't until Grantaire lets out a stifled noise and raised his hand to give him the thumbs up that Grantaire puts his hand on his head, forces him to breathe in the musky and soapy smell of his pubic hair, and starts to thrust hard, moaning softly and high-pitched as he works his cock, in and out, fucking his throat seemingly without regard for Grantaire, for his slave. But he could see how much Grantaire was loving it, his own erection hard and leaking, his eyes watering yet filled with delight, his tongue rubbing desperately against his shaft in an effect to please him.

Enjolras pulls out, letting Grantaire choke and gasp, breathing in air only for a few second before he guides his mouth back, to his balls this time, noting how beautifully dark and puffy his lips were. He watches Grantaire's hungry mouth suck on his balls, trying to focus on not whimpering, but he's too far gone, too aroused to pay attention to the 'feminine' noises leaving his own lips.

“Where do you want me to cum?” He asks him with a pant, but when he looks down, Grantaire looks confused and conflicted, and it takes him a few seconds to realise he doesn't want the choice. That it's his choice to have that taken away, and put it in Enjolras's hands.

“Give me your mouth back,” He murmurs, fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, leading it back to Grantaire's eager mouth, pushing back in, not going as far to fuck his throat this time, but still thrusting hard and fast in his mouth, moaning with utter delight, fingers stroking his jaw until it's too much for him, and he's crying out Grantaire's name, climaxing in his mouth, pressing in deeper to make him swallow, ignoring how hypersensitive he is, wanting Grantaire to swallow all of it.

As he pulls out of his mouth, cock softening, he wants to lie on the bed, spent with orgasm, tired out. But he is not finished yet, and this scene while incredibly enjoyable for him, was something Grantaire had asked for. “Clean me up,” He tells him, and Grantaire, still hungry for orders, for Enjolras, laps all over his cock, his balls, cleaning him with his tongue, licking his lips when he's done as if it was the most satisfying task in the world.

“Do you want to me rewarded?” He asks him, looking down at Grantaire, still hard, head red and swollen. Grantaire is quick to shake his head, which makes Enjolras frown, leaning forwards, practically breaking scene with the look of concern on his face. “Let me reward you for doing this.”

“I- I want to try out denial...chastity,” He pants and stutters in his gruff voice, and Enjolras is sure most of the gruffness is because of a sore throat. 

Enjolras nods thoughtfully, because if that’s what Grantaire wants he shall have it, his boyfriend is deserving of everything. “Do you want Master or boyfriend now?”

“Boyfriend.”

Immediately Enjolras is tugging him up on the bed, dragging him towards the pillows and lying them both down. He thinks about kicking off the boots but wondered if Grantaire would find that disrespectful after such care was taken to put them on. He had already decided he wouldn’t be wearing these boots outside, not now. He leans down and pulls them off his feet, setting them down on the floor, tugging his briefs and trousers up, before lying back down on the sheets. He grabs the fur throw they owned, tugging it over both of them, watching how Grantaire winces at the fabric rubbing against his sensitive erection, but Enjolras, although feeling slightly pained and wanting to take care of his problem, ignores it. 

He wraps arms around his chest, kissing his neck, pulling him close to his body. “Are you okay? How was it?” He murmurs softly.

“Fucking amazing E,” He mutters, snuggling close to him, his slightly sweaty back pressed against Enjolras's cotton clad chest. “Really, wow it was just...can we do it again?”

Enjolras can't help but chuckle at his enthusiasm. “Another time, I will be happy to, I found myself enjoying it also.”

“Glad you did, was worried you wouldn't like it as much as me,” He replies with a shrug.

Enjolras's hands caress him lovingly, one stroking over his slightly bulging stomach, the other at the cheap collar on his neck, running his fingers over the tips of the little spikes. “Can we keep this on?” He asks. “Just for a little while?” Grantaire looked devilishly beautiful with the fake leather wrapped around his neck.

This time Grantaire grunts in response, and when Enjolras peeks over his shoulder, he can see his eyes half closed. 

“Would you like to nap for a while, and we can discuss things after?”

Another grunt. “Mm. Yes. Sounds good.”

Enjolras smiles softly, saying no more, and letting his boyfriend find rest. It was this moment he was most happy about. All that time pining after the beautiful cynic, watching, dreaming, hoping that one day he would be with him. And now he was, now they could share kinks, enjoy these things together. And perhaps, next time, Enjolras could flip things, and shower Grantaire with the affection he deserved, show him what a magnificent creature he was, and remind him how grateful Enjolras was, to have his love.


End file.
